I have been meaning to put G's birth story up for the longest time. I have finally put aside the time and mustered up some patience to set my story free on the
internet for all to read. I put up a couple of pictures of my battle scars. (next to '
hematoma, catheter and
PICC Line) I made them a link in case you didn't want to see them! It is a little long- here it is:
My pregnancy was complication free. I was healthy as a horse, perfect blood pressure, no Gestational Diabetes, no strep b. Gianna was healthy as well!
The first mistake I made was staying with an OB I didn't trust. I still kick myself for that.She was cold and unfriendly, and not a huge fan of natural childbirth. I figured since my mom had
homebirths and I was taking Bradley classes, I was safe. I knew what I was doing and would labor at home. Then, all she'd do was deliver my baby and I'd never see her again.
WRONG!
I went in to the hosp. April 5
th at 11:30. The two L&D nurses were young and cocky. They forced me to lie on my back and not move. (with the most horrible back labor in the world!)
The fetal heart rate monitor they had me on broke. They laughed and said that has never happened before. So they unplugged it, wheeled it away and brought in a new one. So I had to lie still for another 30 minutes (which felt like 30 hours) all over. The nurses stayed grim and unfriendly the whole time, not really filling me in on anything. The whole situation was surreal. I felt more (much more) pain then I thought I would, and the nurses were snootier than I thought they would be. Family Matters was on in the background and if I saw Steve
Urkel knock down one more thing.....his antics usually humor me-but not today. :)
After an hour or two, they called in my doctor, who decided that I "needed" an emergency c-section the first 5 minutes she saw me. What really angers me is I watch baby story, and read other stories on baby's heart rate
decelling, and the
dr's and nurses try EVERYTHING to get the baby's HR up (laying on the side, giving mom oxygen) It's like she gave up on me and my baby before she gave us a chance.
She said G wouldn't make it if I delivered vaginally (I was 5cm at the time without any drugs or
pitocin) My husband and I were scared and shocked. But I feared for my baby's life, and bravely said yes to the section (after all I've seen millions of sections on TV, and they all go well, right?)
My mom always told me if I ever had to go into surgery, become friends with the anesthesiologist. Maybe if they connect with you on a more personal level, they will try extra hard not to kill you. She was from some African country, and spoke with a heavy accent. She noticed I was wearing a scapular, and called it a Rosary.
She gave me my spinal (which scared me to death before today) And I felt nothing overcome me from the waist down. I stayed emotionally numb to the surgery. I felt if I didn't think they were cutting me open, it wasn't happening. It went really fast, and just like that, Gianna was here at exactly 3:00 AM! I heard her healthy cry and it was just unreal. I remember saying that is a baby boy cry. Mark said no, it's a girl! Boy was I happy! (Not that I wouldn't love a boy)
I thought the section went great! I felt no pain, no pulling. I was very groggy, so I didn't get to enjoy G, like I imagined I would. I remember thinking her one eye was swollen, but that's about it. I told Mark to follow our baby, while they put me back together. I was then wheeled into a "recovery room" where they monitored me for an hour.
Then the problems started. In the recovery room, I started violently vomiting.
RNs said that was normal. I continued to vomit for the next few hours-again they said normal.
I had many guests, but could not enjoy their company. I was so very tired. I never had a baby or surgery, so I thought that was all normal.
That night I was feeling weaker and weaker. They said it was just from the surgery. My catheter was still in, but my urine was light brown and barely existent. Again
RN's not too concerned. Then at 3:00 AM the next morning (ironic, I know) one RN ordered a stat blood draw. That draw determined my blood level was at a 5! I immediately needed 3 transfusions. I was so scared. My doctor came in and said I was bleeding internally, and they may need to go back in if the transfusions didn't work. I called my mom at 4 in the morning, and she and my dad drove right back to the hospital. Mark stayed by my side, held my hand and prayed the rosary.
I remember telling the nurse "this is serious, isn't it." She just nodded.
So after the transfusions and blood work, they determined that my blood was stabilizing at a 9. In the meantime I was running a fever (before the transfusions), had HIGH
BP, and my HR was in the 150's. I also had a HUGE
hematoma on my abdomen (which the
dr's and nurses said was normal as well!) They discharged me despite the fact my vitals were so poor.
When I got home I was delirious. My face was so hot and I could feel my heart racing inside of me. I just thought that was normal, because if the
drs thought I was sick, they wouldn't discharge me-right? The next two nights (April 9
th and 10
th) were the worst nights of my life. I had to sleep elevated on my couch because I couldn't lie prostrate. I kept waking up every 10 minutes, when it felt like hours. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest and felt so hot. I had a small fan on me and a cold washcloth on my forehead (which turned warm really fast). I thought I would die that night.
The next day I told my Mark I need to go by my mom's (he was going back to work right after Easter, and I didn't want to be home alone with G.) When my mom saw me, she took my temp and I was 103 degrees! We called my OB, and she said "see how you feel tomorrow, and if you still have this fever call back." I told that to my mom, and she talked to the
dr. She said "my daughter is so sick, and you won't give her antibiotics? She has a fever, it must be an infection" The
dr. finally gave me a prescription for a antibiotic.
My mom took me to her doctor that week. He looked at me and said "What did they do to you?!" I needed a CT scan because my abdomen was still swollen, and that big bruise on my abdomen was burning hot and hard.
The CT scan showed I had three abscesses (two the size of softballs) I had over two liters of infected blood in my gut! I was immediately admitted. My vitals were so poor, the ER doc said I wouldn't make it through surgery to remove the infection. So I had a wonderful team of
interventional radiologists remove over 1 liter of the blood. They were so nice. The said they would give me this pain killer that would make me feel like I drank too many margaritas. They used an ultrasound to find the
abscesses and they put in a
catheter (in my abdomen) and the blood continued to drain. My
bloodwork was so bad. My white blood count was very high, as were my platelets. Which made my mom sick with worry over a blot clot forming. I had to have
Heparin shots in my stomach every day to prevent clotting.
While I was in the second hospital, I had an OB I never met before come into my room while me and the
fam were watching Father of the Bride say he looked over my charts and thinks I may be infertile due to my infection. He was very matter of fact about it. He said my fallopian tubes could very well be damaged after all the infection raged in my body. After he left I cried. My family all agreed to the fact he was a jerk and didn't know what he was talking about. I feel confident I am
ok, but time will tell.
Long story short (sort of short): I almost died twice, had two hospital stays, 3 CT scans, a
PICC line for 6 weeks so I could get IV antibiotics, 2 chest x-rays, 2 catheter
procedures and lots of heartaches. The infection killed my appetite, so I lost 40 lbs in less than a month. I would cry everyday. I couldn't hear of my friends having natural, complication free births. I felt cheated of the birth I wanted and Gianna deserved.
We were so blessed that Gianna was a healthy baby. I would sacrifice myself for her in an instant. I am so very glad I was the one who suffered and not her. With that said I still felt bad when people heard my story and all they say is "wow, that's too bad. At least the baby is healthy" What about me?! I felt selfish because I was upset I was so sick. I tried my best to offer all my sufferings up, but I admit it was hard. Very very hard. I wondered why I had to be the one in a million case and not someone else. Was that wrong of me?
I lived with my parents for two months till I could literally get back on my feet. Everything was still getting back to normal for me. My
bloodwork had to be normalized for me to go home. Thank God it finally did the first week of June!
So there you have it. If you are still reading this thus far; thank you. I feel so much healthier and all I have left of this ordeal is a faint bruise on my abdomen (that is still a bit tender) and jaded memories. I know everything happens for a reason, and God works in mysterious ways. Time will tell why I had to go through this.
This being a new year (and decade) I vowed to leave behind all the bitterness I had towards the hospital I had G at. It is hard because they were obviously negligent. All I can do is hold my precious Gianna tight, and tell her I would do this all over again for her.
